Short Story - Blood on the Sand

Turner felt beaten. Here he sat on the same beach, four weeks after the first victim's body had washed ashore, and still he knew nothing about the killer. .
             "Detective Turner, I think you should take a look at this" .
             Turner looked up to see that Lindsey had returned, the usual bronze color having been restored to his face. In his hand was an orange life preserver with black spray-painted lettering, "Star Island Harbor." Turner looked out at the ocean and saw it. Star Island is one of the Isles of Shoals that straddles the border between New Hampshire and Maine, roughly five miles from the mainland.
             "Lindsey, I know where we can find our killer".
             Detectives Turner and Lindsey chartered a 16-foot Boston Whaler fishing boat out of Portsmouth Harbor and set out towards Star Island with nothing but the clothes on their backs and two fully-loaded Smith and Wesson revolvers. Small waves slapped the sides of the Boston Whaler as it glided across the water effortlessly. "I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner" Turner shouted to Lindsey over the growling of the engine. "The killer has been luring his victims out to Star Island, then dumping their bodies in the ocean for us to find." The island, now in full view, was scattered with old worn-down cottages, but directly in the center was the ominous four-story Oceanic Hotel. .
             The narrow wooden dock was so weathered that it almost blended into the towering walls of wet rock and seaweed. Lindsey leapt onto the creaking dock and tied the boat down to the nearest piling. Turner climbed onto the dock and took in his surroundings: Lush green grass, scattered patches of yellow dandelions, and one winding dirt path leading up to the Oceanic Hotel. "How could someone commit murder in a place like this?" said Lindsey. Turner led his partner along the dirt path until they were standing on the front patio of the hotel.